The Mist and the Lightning. Part 11. Ви Корс
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more convenient for me to command,” said Lis. “I'm used to the scheme of reds. What difference does it make that they are black?”
“I see,” it was obvious that Kors was a little stunned by such a blatant disposition, “and the unclean ones?”
“The unclean ones are mine,” and Nikto named the number of the unclean ones, and how they were divided.
“Are you joking? Such inconsistency?! If I bring my warriors, who are formed according to the classical scheme and the rules of the black army, how will we bring all this to a common denominator?”
“Let's figure it out,” Lis smiled, “I also know the charter of blacks.”
“So, if you don’t go into details, you have two detachments of militias, a little more than a hundred people. And about three hundred unclean half-bloods, which are divided into three companies, and in one company there are fifty unclean, and in the other more than a hundred, and each with its own commander.”
“Yes,” Nikto answered him, “Nija has few soldiers, and Zaf has more. I cannot divide them equally and give Zaf's warriors under the command of Nija or Tazh.”
“That is, each commander has his own soldiers as property, this is not a very suitable alignment. Soldiers should be assigned depending on the task at hand, and not on who their commander is.”
Nikto shrugged his shoulders:
“Nothing can be done here, they are unclean.”
“You also have red ones, I noticed, in the yard?”
“Yes, the red warriors who went over to our side. There are sixty of them.”
“But they are red!”
“Every warrior is dear to us. They went over to our side.”
“But they will betray as soon as the opportunity presents itself!”
“Let them try, and half of them are former deserters of the Red Army who fled from the Red order. Ordinary guys in bad circumstances will come in handy,” Lis interjected.
“And many people know and remember Lis, have heard about him and want to be in the army of the legendary Sigmer.”
“Come on, Nik,” Lis was a little embarrassed, “they just like the local peasant women.”
“What are you doing?! Why do you mix black with red, however… more on that later… and you really count every warrior.”
“Father, reds are people too!” Karina intervened, fearing that now talk about the purity of blood, race and human waste might begin. It's a good thing that they didn't say that soon several half-breeds will be born from the red and unclean!
“Yes,” Kors shook his head, “let's leave this topic, you are not noble blacks and just don’t understand the meaning of the true code of purity. Let's go back to the territories. This area would also be worth checking out,” he said, bending over the map,
“Yes, but it is on the maps and it will be possible to draw up a plan here, focusing on them and not wasting time on exploration. Not to attract the attention of the enemy,” answered Lis, and Karina noticed with relief that he didn’t attach any importance to the hints that were offensive to every black, and as if nothing had happened continued the conversation. “How is he used to all this pretentious husk of blacks,” Karina thought with some regret, “he doesn’t react at all and doesn’t hear. How many times have they said this to him?” Nikto didn’t react either. Poor half-breeds, they are so accustomed that they don’t even hear that they are being insulted. And Karina, for the umpteenth time, mentally thanked the Gods for being born with dark eyes and hair, like all black ones.
“We will drive only to the crossing and will return within a couple of days.”
“Yes, yes, of course. I don't want to detain you now, you could go, and I would stay with my daughter and wait for you,” said Kors.
“We cannot leave Karina,” Nikto objected, “she knows the river well, since she was already there. But I would be glad if you stayed and waited for us. We will leave you all the maps of the area and leave Prince Arel, he will give you all the materials you want. Is it possible?”
“All right,” said Kors, “I'll wait for you. You are planning a very risky business, and I want to understand better and decide everything for myself. And I also want to talk on your return without masks, seriously and in a more frank manner.”
Chapter four
Kors and Arel
Vitor Kors knocked on the door of the prince’s room and entered it. Arel raised his face, still covered with a mask, from the sheet of paper lying on the table in front of him. Kors looked around the room with some surprise. It was perfectly cleaned: the bed was neatly covered with a fur blanket made from the skins of the fluffy gray foxes that were found at the North Sea and here in the South were a rarity, sheer luxury. There were scraper marks on the clean wooden floor, not a single drop of wax. In the far corner of the room, on a chair, was khabir Verniy, he was without a mask, and perhaps this confused Kors. Verniy was sitting on a chair, bent over an iron bucket, in one paw he held a shiny, ornate candlestick for seven candles, but now empty, in the other – a thick wax candle. The candle burned brightly, and Ver led the flame along the curls of the candlestick. Wax adhered to complex patterns melted from the fire and dripped into the bucket. Thus, the candlestick was quickly cleared. All that was left was to wipe it down with a cloth, and it glittered again like new with gold. The second candlestick, perfectly cleaned, was already standing on the bedside table. Verniy only raised his eyes and again began to slowly move the candle over the candlestick.
“What do you need?” Arel asked first, his brown eyes shining brightly from the narrow slits of the mask.
Kors shuddered, as if with difficulty breaking away from the bewitching action, averted his eyes, from the unclean economic dog, looked at Arel:
“You don’t take off your mask at all now,” he said more caustically than questioningly, “just like your Nikto?”
“Do you need anything?” Arel repeated. “Nik said that you can address me if you need something. Only on business.”
“Yes, of course, I came on business,” threw Kors irritated, “do you really think that I came to you just to chat? I need a map of the village, if there is one, of course. And the surroundings. All surroundings.”
Kors went to the table at which Arel was sitting, and bent down, examining the book lying in front of the prince. The book was open.
“You are reading?!” Kors’ surprise knew no bounds, and now he looked very sincere. “Prince Arel, are you reading?! What is it? A textbook?”
Kors reached out and took the book, Arel didn’t stop him, and Ver, too, silently continued his meaningless, short-lived work.
“Everything is clear,” Kors chuckled, looking at the cover. “It's unclean language. You are studying unclean. All’s clear! Does Nikto make you do it? Well, how are you doing?” He put the textbook in place and took the sheet on which Arel tried to write in unclean.
Kors read aloud:
“My Demon Nik. We are together. I, Prince Arel and my Demon Nik, we love each other with love.”
And Kors laughed:
“We love each other with love?! This is cool, Arel! It seems that you can’t master unclean the same way as all other sciences.”
Arel turned away, standing up. His long dark hair covered his back, and when it was not visible that faceless black leather of a mask was on his face, he was again the same Prince Arel. Tall, thin, graceful, he walked over to the closet and took out a bunch of keys from a drawer. And then he turned around, and the magic disappeared, the mask that covered his handsome face spoiled everything, depriving the main thing for which he was nicknamed the handsome prince. And Kors lowered his gaze, he didn’t mock anymore, seeing that Arel didn’t react.
“Here